


Confirmation

by wuwu



Series: Love At Its Finest [2]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort, Dating, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, They get together, spoilers for sevens name, zens a scared baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 19:04:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9285779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wuwu/pseuds/wuwu
Summary: “That’s not what I want to hear,” Zen sniffs. “You’re supposed to tell me that everything is going to be okay. You’re supposed to hold me and tell me that we’ll make it through this together and thatyou’ll be there for me.You’re my boyfriend, aren’t you?” His throat feels tight, his eyes ache, and his stomach feels painfully hollow.Zen just wants to date Jumin in peace. He didn't ask for all of these complications and doubts to prod at his mind.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is part 2 of a series !! i recommend you read part 1 if you haven't, but if you're uncomfortable with smut, i'm sure you'll be able to read this without having read the one before this!!

The pillow he drowns in, inhaling the sweet smell of _nothing_ , wraps around his head and acts as a throne for his peace of mind, providing nothing but ease and serenity as it washes away the traces of alcohol from the night before. The blankets that engulf him, toasting him to an uncomfortable degree, wrap around his limbs and give him a cocoon of safety. The mattress beneath him feels like water, what with the way he sinks in, allowing the foam to mold to his form perfectly, makes him feel as though he’s floating atop a lake of silk. Zen doesn’t know where he is, nor does he care to find out, for the easy existence he resides in lulls him back to sleep, drifting in and out of this state.

Well, he would still be drifting if not for the arm that seeks him out, pulling him close. Zen almost panics, almost kicks back and snatches his arm away so he can turn out and off of the bed that holds him captive, but he relaxes as he recognizes the feeling of a scorching hand travelling across his abdomen.

_Jumin Han._

Ah, yes, how could he forget? Zen lies still in Jumin’s embrace, taking solace in the feeling of his arms, strong and powerful, wrapped around his torso so very delicately. Soft breaths puff into his ear, sending shivers down his spine. He doesn’t move, though. No, he commits this moment to memory. He swears to remember the feeling of Jumin’s legs moving to intertwine with his own. (The contrast of Jumin’s prickly legs compared to his, smooth and sculpted, makes him laugh inwardly, because he honestly doesn’t know if Jumin would be better suited with bare legs or not.) He swears to remember the feeling of Jumin’s fingernails trailing spirals and stars against his skin, luring him into a falsified slumber. He swears to remember the feeling of Jumin’s chest, defined and oh-so warm, as he leans back into his arms.

The sun is high in the sky, he’s sure, but he makes no moves to rise from his position. Zen continues to lay there, surrounded by both the warmth of Jumin and that of the blankets concealing him. Eventually Jumin’s breathing picks up. His chest rises and falls, pressing against Zen’s back at a faster pace, but it remains slow and steady to match Jumin’s calm demeanor. Zen still doesn’t move from where he rests. He wants to stay there forever, stuck in a window of time where they’re both drowsy with sleep and too lazy to shake it off. He doesn’t want to face the problems that will arise with waking up.

Zen doesn’t want to push Jumin away.

But, fuck, he knows he will. He knows that as soon as Jumin separates from him, as soon as he speaks to Zen, that it will be all over.  It’s not that he wants to ruin things, though. No, he doesn’t want to trample all over this lovey dovey aura they have going on, but he knows he will. Reality will haunt him, teasing him with threats of a failed love. He’ll stress over what the RFA will think of him. He’ll faint from the worries of his career being tainted by Jumin’s influence. He’ll lose his mind thinking about how the public will react to Zen, the ladies man of theater, coming out as _gay_. He feels sick just thinking about it.

“Zen.” That voice, warm and gentle against his ear, calls out to him.

“Shut up,” he snaps, because he doesn’t know what else to do. He wants to retreat and run away. He wants to hide from all of these _stupid_ worries that plague his mind.

“ _Zen_ ,” that voice says, stern, warm, and not so gentle anymore.

“Please,” Zen whispers. “Please, just don’t talk.” He wants to cry.

Zen wonders if Jumin can hear the wavering of his voice, or if maybe he can feel the trembling of Zen’s form against his chest, but either way, he’s thankful for the silence that follows. He sits and simmers in the quiet of the room, overheated from his surroundings, while his shoulders hiccup as he buries his face into his pillow. Jumin’s hold tightens around him, so he wraps his hand around Jumin’s wrist and squeezes.

Zen doesn’t know how long they’ve been laying there, but he can feel an uncomfortable pang in his stomach, and he can only wonder how Jumin feels from laying with him for so long. Jumin doesn’t complain about missing his carefully scripted meal schedule, though, so he guesses it’s not too bad for the other man.

“I’m sorry,” Zen mutters after a while. “I shouldn’t have been so rude.” It feels nice to apologize, even if there’s an immense guilt that lingers with him after verbalizing his wrongdoing.

“Are you okay?” Jumin asks. And Jumin, the man with such little patience, waits for him to answer. He waits and waits for a response, but the most Zen can manage is a simple shake of his head. “Do you want to tell me what you’re thinking about?” He’s so kind. Zen doesn’t know how he could have ever hated him.

“I’m scared,” Zen speaks. And goddamn it, Zen doesn’t know if he’s desperate for relief or if he’s taking solace in the memory of them becoming official boyfriends the night before, but he decides to speak up about the daunting thoughts that paint horrors in his mind. “I don’t know if this was the right decision.”

He can practically hear Jumin’s brows furrow from that statement. “What do you mean? Do you mean having sex?” His inability to properly read the mood astounds Zen and would usually be viewed as endearing, but at this moment in time, Zen can’t help the burst of irritation that explodes within his chest.

“No,” Zen barks out. His voice raises and Jumin leans away in shock, surprised by his outburst. “No, that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s… It’s not…”

“I won’t know unless you tell me, Hyun.”

“What the fuck are we supposed to do, huh?” Zen laughs. He feels empty. “You’re Jumin Han. _The_ Jumin Han. You’re one of the most influential people in the country, and I’m just some lowly actor who can’t fucking make it big on his own.”

“If you’re worried about our differing statuses, I’m not going to put you down for--”

“ _No,_ ” Zen laughs once more. “I’m not expecting you to value our places in society, Jumin. It’s everyone else. What if people think I’m just dating you so I can get better roles? What if people stop hiring me _because_ they think I’ve got no talent, because they think you’re supporting me with bribes? What am _I_ supposed to do?”

There’s no immediate response from Jumin. Probably because there’s no easy solution to a problem so big and grand and important to Zen. It’s _definitely_ nothing money can fix.

“And what of me being gay, too?” Zen scoffs. “If I thought my chances at getting roles were going to be ruined, I’m definitely fucked now.” He pinches at Jumin’s wrist and pushes himself into his chest even further, not wanting Jumin to see his expression. “It’s hard enough for me to get a decent role as is.”

More silence greets him, but he doesn’t mind. Zen wades in his insecurities and waits for Jumin to respond, feeling as though he’s aged terribly so before he gets an answer.

“I’m sorry,” Jumin says. “While there’s no guarantee your career will plummet from you being homosexual, there’s also no way to determine how the public will perceive our relationship. Our best bet may be to stay hidden, if you’d like, or simply break things off here before things progress, if only to avoid these unnecessary issues.”

And Jumin, logical, rational, meticulous Jumin, says the exact opposite of what Zen needs. He knows this already. He knows that not coming out with their relationship, or not even dating at all, would be the most beneficial thing for him, but _fuck_ he doesn’t need to think about that right now. Not when he’s finally in the arms of the man he loves.

So Zen, brash and emotional as he is, turns himself around to face Jumin and glares at him with boiling tears streaming down his face, leaving red trails in their wake. Jumin’s hands move to caress the dip in Zen’s lower back, pressing into his skin. Zen doesn’t focus on the hands on him, but instead makes sure he pounds his fists into Jumin’s chest with enough force to get him to _understand_.

“That’s not what I want to hear,” Zen sniffs. “You’re supposed to tell me that everything is going to be okay. You’re supposed to hold me and tell me that we’ll make it through this together and that you’ll _be there for me_. You’re my boyfriend, aren’t you?” His throat feels tight, his eyes ache, and his stomach feels painfully hollow. He pounds his fists against Jumin once more before letting them rest against his chest, leaning his head over so he can place his forehead on Jumin’s collarbone. Zen doesn’t feel high and mighty. No, he feels small. Cowardly.

“Of course,” Jumin nods. “Of course I am.” He scoots closer to Zen, allowing the man’s face to rest in the crook between his shoulder and neck, and he closes his eyes as he breathes out against Zen’s smooth, creamy locks. “I’m sorry.” His tone is laced with regret and disappointment. The somberness of his words drag him down and flood his body with desperation.

As the two wrap themselves in each other, moving closer and closer until they feel as though they’ve fused into one, Zen can let himself relax. The stress in his body dissipates from his bones, forgotten for the moment only to be rediscovered on another day, but he doesn’t mind. Zen lives for this moment right now, together with Jumin.

“We’re going to be okay, Hyun,” Jumin whispers. “I would do anything for you. I’ll give up my status, I’ll give up _everything_ , for you. For us.” Zen knows that this is a bit much for only having been dating for a few hours, but it still feels right after months of unresolved tension. The buildup to their current relationship always had these feelings of sacrifice within its foundation, hidden away until they could reemerge for this instance. _This_ , Zen notes. _This feels right. Over the top maybe, but right nonetheless._ It’s not exactly what Zen was looking for, but he’s grateful for Jumin’s awfully loyal words. This relationship, barely starting up, feels so bittersweet.

“Thank you,” Zen mumbles. He feels terribly sleepy for having been laying down all day long. He wants to tell Jumin that he can keep his company, that he can keep his pride and success, but he knows that can wait for another time. He’ll tell him over a shared pot of coffee, when they discuss how exactly they plan on working together, but for now, in this time of emotional distress, he feels like this is enough.

Zen can vaguely feel himself succumb to his drowsiness, losing himself in the sweltering hold of Jumin’s toned arms and listening to Jumin’s sweet, level voice talking to him about everything and nothing simultaneously.

* * *

 

Jumin nudges Zen awake with a gentle hand, prodding at his arm. As Zen opens his eyes, bleary and heavy, Jumin smiles down at his sleepy form. Those eyes of his, red, rich, and mesmerizing, blink up at him with tangled lashes and an alluring luster. His hair falls down to brush against his eyelashes, and Jumin gently brushes the stray locks away.

“Good morning, my prince,” Jumin huffs. “You slept an awful long time.” He’s wearing one of his pinstriped shirts, Zen notices. He looks damn good in it, but Zen still wishes he could have some variety in his fashion.

“Are you leaving somewhere?” Zen asks. His words slur together a bit, his mouth pressed against his pillow, full of drool and tinted with sleepiness, but Jumin understands him well enough.

“Ah, no,” Jumin says. “But I would rather my personal chef didn’t see me shirtless and ragged after last night’s activities.” He ruffles Zen’s hair with his deft fingers. Strands of hair, smooth but slightly greasy, run easily through his fingertips.

“You got food?” Zen asks. He perks up a bit more but doesn’t sit up fully until Jumin promises to bring him a tray, setting it into his lap with careful movements. He concentrates extra hard on placing it in Zen’s lap properly.

“I’m not sure what foods you prefer,” Jumin starts, “but I’m sure this is better than the junk you guzzle down at home.”

“Haha,” Zen deadpans. “Have fun picking on the poor commoner.” He purses his lips but remains grateful anyway, mesmerized by the delicious sight of grilled chicken sitting atop a bed of rice, adorned with a side of steamed vegetables with a few cooked pieces of pineapple mixed in. He cuts off a piece of the chicken with his fork and all but shoves it into his mouth, moaning exaggeratedly at the taste. “Holy shit, I’m in love.”

Rolling his eyes, Jumin takes a seat at the edge of his bed and opens his phone, sighing at its contents. He has a wide array of notifications, ranging from bothersome messages in the RFA messenger to frantic texts and missed calls from Jaehee. However, he’s in no hurry to respond. After all, he _did_ tell her that he was to take today off. He’s sure she has everything under control as usual. She’s quite a competent assistant. Though, as he ignores Yoosung’s flurry of emojis and MC’s worried text messages, he can’t help but scroll through the knowing messages that Saeyoung has sent him.

He scrolls through the abundance of (confusing) emoticons that Saeyoung has sent him, huffing at his nonsensical texts, but stopping once the sparkly faces and exclamation points cease.

 

**707:** Everyone’s worried about you, you know.

**707:** They wouldn’t be so worried if they knew where you are, though….

**707:** Well, less of _where_ you are and more of _who_ you’re with.

**707:** But! My lips are sealed!

**707:** God Seven knows all! But that doesn’t mean he should tell.

**707:** Have fun with my Zenny !!!!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

 

Jumin purses his lips and sets his phone down on the bed, giving himself a few moments to exhale before turning around to check up on Zen.

He’s got the tray in his lap, grains of rice strewn about, while there’s no sight of the chicken or steamed vegetables. The cooked pineapple is shoved away into a neat pile on the plate, untouched. Jumin frowns.

“You didn’t finish your food,” he states. Zen rolls his eyes at the comment and pushes the tray aside. Jumin sighs and takes the tray off of the bed anyway, stopping at the door before he leaves. “You can go ahead and wash up in the bathroom, if you’d like. Feel free to use whatever you please.” He waits to hear Zen’s grunt of approval before leaving.

* * *

 

Zen just can’t get enough of this place. First, he wakes up in sheets with a thread count higher than the amount of money he’s learned in his entire life, gets to eat world class food made by a qualified ( _qualified!_ ) chef, and then he’s left to soak in a bathtub bigger than his bed at home. Jumin Han really _does_ live in another world.

After showering, bathing, and furiously washing his mouth out with mouthwash in place of brushing his teeth, Zen reemerges from the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. He would put his clothes back on, but he doesn’t feel fond of wearing the same outfit more than once without a washing break in between. He’s ready to spit out a joke about his nudity, but he stops in his tracks as he stares at Jumin.

His hands are folded together behind his back, fingers rubbing together while he bites his lip. The reflection of his face on the glass doesn’t do much to accentuate Jumin’s expression, but Zen can make out the sight of him biting his lip. His shoulders are tight and squared, body stiff and tense, and although his ass looks _amazing_ in those dress pants, Zen limits himself and approaches with slow steps.

Jumin turns his head at the sound, but as soon as he realizes it’s just Zen he turns back around to stare at the window. He looks lost among the stars that are beginning to appear in the evening sky. Zen thinks he looks serene, but he knows there’s an inner conflict waging in his mind.

“I’ve set some clothes for you on the bed,” Jumins says. Ah, yes, there’s the business man. His tone is flat and does wonders for Zen’s growing unease.

“Is everything alright?” Zen asks. He slips into the sweatpants that Jumin has provided him, slightly amazed that he’d have something so sloppy in his house. He waits for a reply as he slides on the shirt he’s been given, deflating as he sees how loose it fits him. Oh well.

“I’ve been thinking,” Jumin mentions. “About us. About what you said earlier.” And Zen covers his face with both of his hands, groaning into his palms while his ears tint to a shade similar to his eyes.

“God, forget about that, Jumin,” he laments. “I was being moody, you don’t have to--”

“No,” Jumin says, cutting him off. “You’re right. There’s quite a few complications that come with dating you, and I’m glad you brought them up sooner rather than later.” His expression, hard and set in stone, sets Zen on edge.

He wants to tell Jumin that he’s wrong, that they’ll work out just fine, but he knows they won’t. The publicity that will follow the appearance of their relationship will be astoundingly negative. People may cut off connections with C&R, others may use this as a chance to try and run C&R to the ground, and Jumin’s father is sure to have a field day with the news. Zen’s chances of getting hired will be slim to none, for his connections to the powerful Jumin Han will lead directors to dislike him and not consider hiring him if not for a sum of money in exchange. That, and the public will definitely give him backlash, for he’ll be breaking the hearts of hundreds, if not thousands of women across the nation. Zen knows that he wants a fairytale ending with a magical solution, but he needs to think about this rationally. He needs to view this as an _adult_ and not some crybaby who wants to get his way.

“We can break this off now, if you want,” Jumin offers. “I know I said I would throw away my fortune for you, but we both know that that’s not entirely true.” Zen nods. Only an idiot would run away from such a good life, even if it’s for love. “I’m willing to sacrifice what I can, but I still have a duty as the heir of C&R, and I hope you can respect that.” He sounds solemn. Zen walks up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his head against the back of Jumin’s shoulder.

“I’m not telling you to leave your life behind,” Zen clarifies. “No matter what we said during my… _episode_ earlier, we were both emotional. I know that.” God, does he regret opening his mouth. Past-Zen can fuck off. “I don’t expect you to leave everything for me at the drop of a dime, nor do I _want_ you to. Just like I hope you don’t want me to leave behind my career, because there’s no way in hell I’d ever do that. We’ve both worked hard to get where we are today.” Jumin hums. “I just… want to know that you’ll support me when things get too hard. I want to be sure that you’ll be there to help me up when I fall down. I’m fine with struggling, but I don’t want to do it alone.”

“I’m not opposed to working through a relationship together,” Jumin says. “But, I want you to be sure what you’re getting into. Even though we’ve been sort of… working through it for quite a while now, I know that getting one drunk isn’t the most courteous way of confessing to someone.” He gives a curt laugh at the end of his statement, shaking his head with slow movements as though he’s come to terms with his shady actions.

There’s no denying that the two have been practically all over each other for the past few months, and Zen’s fully aware of that. They’d been flirting in the chatroom more often, calling one another during their free time, and Zen’s even invited Jumin to his place a few times. Seeing each other outside of RFA related gatherings became more and more common, until things slowly built up to the night before, unclothed and sweaty and desperate to fuck.

“We can take this slow,” Zen suggests. _It’s a bit late for taking things slow,_ Zen thinks, _but it’s better than not doing it at all._ “Like, keeping this to ourselves for a bit. Seeing how things _actually_ progress before coming out with anything solid.” Jumin relaxes beneath him and turns around, draping his arms over Zen’s shoulders while Zen’s hands accommodate Jumin’s waist in their grip. They stand face to face with only a few inches between their noses.

A hum escapes Jumin’s throat, unsettling. Zen presses him to speak up about what’s got him so worked up, and after a few seconds of persisting, Jumin relents. “Saeyoung already knows about us,” he says quietly.

“What the fuck.” Zen scrunches his eyes closed and throws his head back, letting out a loud groan. “Did you tell him?” A breath of hot air escapes from his nose, puffing much like a bull before a match.

“It seems he tracked the GPS on your phone,” Jumin says. “I guess he noticed how long you’ve been here. That, and both of our absences from the chatroom.” He doesn’t sound at all embarrassed, but instead just very, very tired. Exasperated.

“I don’t even want to know what Jaehee is going to say,” Zen sighs. “She’s going to be so disappointed in me. I’m sorry I’ve failed you, Jaehee, my most loyal fan. Even my sweet MC will feel betrayed... “

“Let’s push your ego aside,” Jumin suggests. “Jaehee won’t think of you any different, nor will MC. No matter how much you seem to think so.” He brings his hand up to run through Zen’s hair, entangling his fingers in his ponytail that runs down his back with grace.

Zen scoffs. “You don’t know the heart of a woman,” Zen says forlornly. “You don’t know their sorrows.” He’s only half serious. Of course they wouldn’t view him differently, nor does he care as much as he lets on, but he can’t help but feel a bit of disappointment with himself for not promising his heart to all of his fans and instead giving it to one person by the name of Jumin Han.

“And apparently you don’t know the heart of a woman, either, if you’re with me,” Jumin points out. Zen sticks his tongue out and gasps at the feeling of Jumin tugging on his hair. “Even if you do act like quite the diva at times.”

“Alright, alright,” Zen relents. “Let’s stop picking on handsome Zen and focus on the issue at hand.” Jumin straightens up with the statement, letting his fingers drop from their place in his hair. He scoots back by the slightest of centimeters, something Zen finds annoying, but he allows the space between them anyway. “Are we really going to do this?”

“I don’t see why not,” Jumin shrugs. “We’ve already seen the most intimate parts of one another, after all.” That smug bastard. Zen wants to kiss him.

Instead, he punches him in the arm. “God, you’re so annoying,” Zen groans. “You better not expect me to be an easy lay, though. You need to take me out a minimum of five times before I’ll even _consider_ going to bed with you again.” He’s not sure how well they’ll follow this set of rules, but he makes sure to ingrain this information into Jumin’s brain anyway. He really, really wants this to work out.

“Understood,” Jumin nods. He has the biggest grin on his face, one that reaches his eyes, and Zen melts from the youthful glow he has going on. His eyes crinkle, his cheeks plump up, and there’s a radiance to him that makes Zen weak at the knees.

“If things start to go sour, we need to deal with it immediately, you got that?” Zen raises an eyebrow and Jumin nods. “And we need to work together. We need to support each other.” Zen doesn’t know what makes a stable relationship, and he knows Jumin doesn’t know either, but he’s trying. “But for now, we’re laying low.”

Jumin leans toward Zen, pulling him closer, and nods against his neck. “That seems like a wise decision,” Jumin mutters. He presses a kiss to Zen’s jawline, ignoring the shiver that runs up Zen’s spine. “Though, I’d like to have you for myself now that this is all over with.” He mouths at Zen’s jaw now, lips sloppy and languid against his skin. It feels gross and weird but _fuck_ Zen wants him to do that forever.

“Remember my rule, Jumin,” he laughs. “You can’t--ah, that’s nice--you can’t do anything below the belt.” He leans his head back and welcomes the soft kisses Jumin presses to his neck. Each peck feels like a hot coal smothering his skin, exciting and painful and rejuvenating. Jumin walks him backwards to the bed, laughing when the back of Zen’s legs clash with the bed, causing him to topple.

As Jumin runs his fingers through Zen’s hair, pressing small kisses to his boyfriend’s cheeks, Zen feels like the luckiest man alive. Although there are hardships the two are certain to experience, he knows that everything will be alright, because he and Jumin will help each other through whatever may come. There will surely be some situations that won’t be so easy to work through, but Zen remains optimistic and hopeful for the future to come.

**Author's Note:**

> hoo sorry this took so long ,,, also ! i really love the idea of zen not being a Complete Asshole to jumin bc he actually cares for his bf,,
> 
> i have a few more parts to this series thought out !! i plan to write a fic of how the others (like the rfa and the media) handle their relationship as well as an in depth view of their relationship and how it progressed !  
> if you wanna chat my tumblr is amanoyuqiteru and my twitter is @jyushikos !!


End file.
